I must be getting older. I'm starting to look forward to sleep and delighting in the nights I get to stay home. I used to love being on the go. Having places to be made me feel important and fun. Lately, I'm happy when I look at the calendar and the day is completely blank. I secretly say a prayer to the schedule god that Steve won't want to go anywhere when he realizes we have nothing planned.
I'm not saying I don't want to be invited places or left out of things. I'm just thinking that a little simma down nah sounds relatively lovely. Maybe this is the slippery slope that leads to all social faux pas and destruction. One weekend of nothing eventful and the next thing you know, you're shopping at Wal-Mart in your pajamas.
Steve makes fun of the H-O-M-E deco I've placed on the mantle. We'll be sitting in the great room watching TV and he'll say, "Something tells me we don't just have a house...we have a home." Or out of the blue he'll ask a guest, "Are you getting an overwhelming feeling that you're at home?...We sure hope so." Thinks he's so funny, but I love being at home for so many reasons.
Hanging at home means that football has returned, and the recliner is mine every Sunday for the rest of the year! Home is where I know my kids are alright and blood sugar is stable for hours. Home stands for comfort and cuddling more with my Cootman. There really is no place like home...save The Lollipop Guild.

